Day 1 - punks, goths and grannies
Trip Start
Aug 31, 2008
1
2
14
Trip End
Sep 13, 2008
Fürstenau,
Germany
Monday, September 1, 2008
Driving east from Europoort towards Rotterdam is a bit grim, with lots of oil containers and cranes everywhere. So I allowed Mr Satnav to take over, tapped in my destination of Berlin, and it immediately told me to turn off the main road. Funny, I thought, but I thought I would comply. It took me down some very nice leafy lanes (no motorway though) and I ended up at a car ferry to take me across to the north bank of the river. I somehow couldn't imagine that this was the prime route to Berlin from anywhere, so I decided to about-turn, and use my own brain power.
The thing you notice about driving through Holland is just how fit everyone looks. Of course, that's because there are so many cycling lanes, all used, and that comes of having such a flat country. They actually had a big sign saying that a mound (my terminology) was a staggering 57 metres high. I think my TV aerial at home is not far off that.
Also you see a lot of water channels running along the edges of roads and fields. Obvious, really, considering the landscape. Half the fields right now are full of 2 metre high wheat, and all looking healthy. Lay-bys here are an experience. Most of them allow you to stop overnight in them (at least they don't actively disallow it), so you get odd groups of punks, Goths and grannies in their respective motorhomes, happily coexisting , and probably swapping knitting patterns when nobody is looking.
Diesel here is much much cheaper than petrol. As I'm driving a motorhome which takes diesel, I have absolutely no problems with this sensible arrangement.
My fridge decided not to work, and on day one that didn't bode well. Then I remembered what a repair chappie said last year. If you don't use it on gas for some time, open the side panel and give the gas valve a good whack with a hammer. OK, I thought I would have a go. Hammer in hand, good swing, and a thwack on the valve. Result - perfection. Sometimes brawn really does succeed over brains (and common sense).
Sunday night and I am in a campsite just east of Fürstenau. Have thoroughly exercised my knowledge of German by saying Hallo to about 20 inhabitants here. Obviously my knowledge of the lingo impressed them, and convinced them I was a fluent speaker, as I got the same reply. Except one, who said Hej. Now even I know this is Swedish, so I guessed they were here also looking for (and finding) the missing summer.
I stopped for an hour in the little dot called Haselünne. Very nice buildings, and a shopping area that actually had some character. Germany goes in for brick buildings with patterns in the brickwork, either different colour bricks, or stepped patterns by doubling them up. All quite pleasant. All that seemed to be happening in the bustling centre was a huge number of pensioners sitting outside guzzling cool drinks and ice creams. How sensible in this warm weather, so I did the same.
Next I called at Fürstenau, to have a look around the castle (just the exterior) and the gorgeous St George church. I walked past a bar next to the church, undecided whether to go in, and I heard some loud oompah music start, with stamping, whistling and out of tune singing. The roof of the bar was flying the old German World War One flag, the black cross on the white background, with an eagle in one corner. Maybe a reunion? No, don't be silly, they would all be about a hundred. I peered in. They WERE all about a hundred. I beat a hasty retreat before they beat out of me the fact that my granddad built Spitfires (yes, it's true) and my dad was in the RAF. Leg it, I thought.
So here I am on a pleasant warm evening, typing up this rubbish. Hope it is of interest to some of you. More to come tomorrow!
